Pokergeist
Page 18
One by one, each player rose, until the room was filled with thunderous and appreciative applause.
From the gallery, a cheer started and soon took over the whole room. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”
Ruby stood, taking Ginny’s hand to stand beside her. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!” Even Stan joined the crowd.
“No, no, you don’t understand.” Telly stood, waving his hands for them to stop. The shouting got louder, like a marching army. Clutch beamed.
“Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”
“I’m listening to him tell me what to do,” Telly pleaded to the chanting crowd.
The chant changed, becoming louder. People were clapping their hands in time to the words. “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”
In the casino, people stopped playing to join the chant. On the couch, Harriet and Frank raised their arms, shrimp wrapped in bacon in each hand, and yelled, “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”
At the Tango Motel, Quick Daddy and Cheryl sat in their living room, holding their hands together and aloft, shouting, “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”
At the county jail, the prisoners sat clustered around the TV, their hands chained together, their voices singing, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”
Jenny Henderson covered her ears with both hands to drown out the cries.
Victor Mazzone, who had made bail for Jenny after she signed away most of the inheritance, smiled as he sang, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”
“I could have told you that would happen.” Clutch was next to him, smirking. “They love me.” He walked out to center stage, his chest pushed out, his arms opened wide, enjoying every second. “They love me. It’s Clutchtime!” he shouted. Then he turned to Telly. “Now sit your dumb ass down and let’s win this thing. You ain’t gettin’ rid of me until the fat lady sings, and I don’t hear no voices. You’re in too deep, and for some stupid reason, they love you too. Go ahead and channel the shit out of me, baby. I’m yours. Oscar has pocket deuces. If you get your head out of your ass, you’ll see there’s a two on the turn, so…reraise.”
Telly reraised.
It was the Ant’s turn. Clutch shouted in the younger man’s ear. “You suck, bro. The Ant is marching one by one! Knock this twerp out already, Telly.”
“I’m all in,” Telly said woodenly.
The Ant folded, safe for another game.
“Call,” Oscar said. He lost all his chips and was done. He rose, and Telly got up to shake his hand. The Ant stuck his tongue out. Oscar turned around, gave the hooded man the finger, and said, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch.” His fist was raised in the air as he bounced off the stage.
Telly couldn’t hear Clutch over the insults hurled by the Ant. Hunched, his hoodie covering his greasy hair, he sneered, his nasty teeth feral in his snarl. “You call me with a five–six offsuit, you twit? Now look at the mess you’ve gotten into.” The Ant was speaking to Honey Potts.
Honey Potts mucked her cards, knowing the game was all over for her. She bluffed and lost. She slapped Telly on the back and said, “Go get him, No Tells. Do it for Clutch.” She blew him a kiss as she left the room. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch” became her swan song too.
Both Telly and the Ant were apparently unstoppable. Just a few more plays, and it was just the two of them.
“It went quickly, Kev,” Stu said into the mick. “But not as quickly as me in the bedroom.”
“I’ll say. Two more to go, and we are in the homestretch.”
The cards were revealed. “Jack high flush.” The retired postman smiled. “You’ve come a long way from the Mirage poker room, Telly. It was a pleasure playing with you. I can now say I played with the greatest player in the game.”
“One more, the final roundup. Let’s squash this ant,” Clutch whispered into Telly’s ear.
“Historic, absolutely historic. This is it, folks. The reigning champion versus No Tells. Adam ‘the Ant’ Antonowski has done it again. He beat nearly twelve thousand players to get here…again.” Kevin approached the table to squat down beside the Ant.
“If you bring up the name Clutch or Telly, I walk.”
“Let me ask you a question before we go to commercial break, Ant. If you were stranded on a desert island and had a choice between In-N-Out or Jack in the Box, which would you pick?”
“Is this a trick question?” Ant spat.
“You told me not to bring up Clutch or Telly.” Kevin smiled, all his teeth showing.
Somewhat mollified, the Ant thought and then answered, “Two double doubles with onions. One animal-style French fries, and a vanilla shake.”
“That’s what I thought…right, Stu?” He winked at the other announcer.
“I love a good double shake.” They were sharing a joke at his expense, but he be damned if he couldn’t figure it out.
“And a good vanilla shake,” Kevin persisted.
Stu laughed and then took the cue. “Speaking of vanilla shakes, Telly Martin has shaken up the poker universe with near flawless gameplay.”
The Ant threw down a towel he was using. “I hate you guys!” He stormed off, their laughter echoing after him.
Kevin moved to Telly. “So, Telly, where is Clutch right now?”
Telly turned to face him, his expression relaxed. “Right next to me.”
“That’s simply fascinating,” Kevin said, his eyes bright.
“I’m sure it sounds that way,” Telly responded.
He pulled over a chair to sit. “What is he telling you right now?”
“You’re a turd, Kev,” Clutch leaned over and said into the mike. No one heard but Telly.
Telly took the mike and smiled. “He says he really likes you.”
Kevin beamed. “Well, I like him too. So, if you win the bracelet, in a way so does Clutch.”
“I can’t see it any other way,” Telly agreed.
“The bracelet is mine!” Clutch stood on the table and beat on his chest.
“Are you nervous about going up against the reigning champion?” the announcer asked.
Indignant, Clutch shouted, “No!”
Telly was thoughtful. “Well…”
“No, no, no!” Clutch insisted.
“No,” Telly sighed.
“What’s your strategy?”
Telly was silent for a minute. He looked over at Clutch, who was sitting almost on top of him. Clutch’s face was serene, blissful. He was having the time of his life. Oops, Telly amended. The time of his death, perhaps. His dreams appeared close to being fulfilled.
“Listen to Clutch,” he said simply.
* * *
“Is this seat taken?” Gretchen asked a bald man, pointing to the seat next to him.
He moved his hat from the cushion. “No, no, it’s yours.”
“Great,” Gretchen smiled.
“Stan Jarvis.” Then he added, “This is Ginny and Ruby.”
Gretchen held out her hand to each of them. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you enjoying the Series?”
Stan blew air from his lips. “This is the most exciting Series I’ve been to. I love that guy, Telly. He’s a character.”
Gretchen smiled. “He’s my fiancé.”
“Well, I love him!” Stan smiled. “He’s some bright guy.”
“He’s brilliant. He designed the computer network for this casino.”
“You don’t say! Why is he driving a cab then?”Stan asked.
“How did you know that?” she asked.
“He took me for a ride.” Stan chuckled.
“Long story. He’s between jobs right now.”
“Happens I need a network. Got to link seventy of my restaurants.” He pulled out a business card. “Tell him to call my man Howard. If Howard approves, I’ve got a nice job for him in Phoenix if he wants it.”
* * *
The interview ended, and the announcer was brought in to do the opening. “For the thousands in attendance and the millions watching around the world, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to shuffle up and deaaaal!” Applause and cheers erupted in the gallery. Telly narrowed his eyes but could not see Gretchen. He touched his lips, then his heart, knowing she was doing the same.
“Calm down; just be cool. That little pissant will never know what hit him.” Clutch was bouncing from one foot to the other like a demented boxer.
“And now, sitting on the east end of the table…he’s the defending champion. He’s small, but he can carry his weight in chips. Ladies and gentlemen, Adam ‘the Ant’ Antonowski!”
Clutch was rubbing his shoulders again. “I told you not to do that!” Telly said.
“Sorry.” Clutch leaned close, his cold breath in Telly’s ear. “Now listen, he’s going to try and get into your head. Don’t listen to his smack.”
“Gosh, I don’t know what that feels like,” Telly said sarcastically.
“Oh, you mean me?” Clutch looked innocent. “Just do what I say. No showboating. Don’t let him intimidate you.”
“Now, fighting out of the west end of the stage…a no-name, newbie local who channels the greats of the past. At the end of a near flawless Series—the one, the only, Telly ‘No Tells’ Martin!”
Telly walked into the lighted arena; the table was at center stage. He felt the hair on his neck stand up as the heat of the overhead lights scorched his skin. The air in the room was different—weighted and thick. Telly automatically looked to Clutch, who was, well, white as a ghost. His face was frozen in fear, his eyes opened wide, his mouth drawn back in a silent scream. Suddenly, Clutch ran forward, hissing, “Buster, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Telly looked into the abyss on the other side of the room and caught an ominous dark shadow ponderously making its way across the stage. It was oppressive, a hulking presence that sucked the light and air from the room.
Clutch checked himself, his form vibrating with anger. “Holy shit.” He turned to Sten, who was calmly leaning against a camera, and demanded, “Did you know he was here?”
Telly heard him. “Sten?” He looked around. There were more of them?
“What’s the matter, Clutch? You look like you saw a ghost,” Buster said with a laugh. Only Clutch could hear it. He was in hell.
“Get lost, Gramps,” Clutch sneered. “This is my game.”
“Like hell, Oliver. You don’t own the world. You’re nothing but a two-bit cheat and card shark.”
“Ready, old man?” the Ant asked.
Telly looked at him, perplexed. “I’m not old. Who are you talking to?”
The Ant looked around the stage as if he were listening to directions. “Who are you talking to?”
Telly pointed to him slowly. “I’m talking to you.”
Clutch walked in front of Telly to confront the hulking shadow. “You’re helping this little insect?” His voice dripped with anger.
“You bet I am,” Buster told him.
Clutch stood for a minute in stunned silence. “You hustled me? The whole tourney, you hustled me? How come I didn’t see you?”
“You only see what you want to see, Oliver. That’s been your problem all along.”
Telly turned to Clutch and whispered, “Who are you talking to?”
The Ant stood, the veins on his neck bulging. “I said I was talking to you!”
“Did you help him win last year, Buster?” Clutch asked.
Telly repeated, “Buster?”
The old man laughed and said, “Oh, Clutch, that was one hell of a game.”
The Ant looked at Telly, finally realizing what was going on and said, “Clutch?”
Telly put it together: he could hear Clutch, and the Ant was apparently listening to Buster Henderson, the ghost of Clutch’s grandfather.
Kevin jumped out of his seat. “This is unprecedented, folks. In a nod to two of the greatest poker legends in the history of the game, the Ant is calling Telly Clutch, and Telly is calling the Ant Buster, Clutch’s grandfather.”
“Wow,” Stu said in awe. “This is a change from the disrespect we’ve seen at the tables lately. Maybe Telly ‘No Tells’ has brought manners back to the game. This is so special.”
Kevin agreed. “This Series will go down in history as a real game changer.”
Clutch was so still that Telly could barely see him.
“You told him my hand,” Clutch accused.
“Yup,” Buster said with no malice, but a hint of sadness.
Telly heard the hurt in Clutch’s voice when he asked, “Why did you ruin my game, Grandpa? Why?”
“Oh, Clutch, you still don’t get it. After all this time, you don’t understand. You never learned the real game. Poker is a game of respect.”
“Like you respected me last year?” Clutch stomped forward, his hands fisted.
“You were selfish then, and you are selfish now. All you ever cared about was yourself.”
“Well, someone had to!” Clutch yelled. “Nobody else did.” He reached out to punch the shadow. Telly watched, aghast, as something drove Clutch to his knees.
On the screens, the anchormen watched as Telly and the Ant simply stared at each other silently, their faces blank. Cards were dealt, and Telly looked at his pocket sevens, waiting to hear what to do. The Ant studied the cards in his hand, his hoodie off, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Buster and Clutch, on the other hand, were duking it out like prizefighters. All the Ant heard was Buster’s grunts as he watched his huge body being slammed to the floor.
Telly stared as Clutch rolled across the stage, locked in combat with an unseen foe.
“You piece of shit. How could you do that to me? I’m your blood!” Clutch shouted.
“You’re nothing better than cow turd. Lazy care-for-nothing narcissist!” Buster responded hotly.
“Narcissist? Where’d you learn that word? From him, I bet!” He pointed to Sten, who watched impassively.
“All you ever cared about was your own pleasure. Never gave two shits about anyone else—not your kid, not Jenny, not Ginny. Redemption’s a bitch,” Buster said between punches. “You never worked for or appreciated anything in your life.”
“That’s a lie!” Clutch was enraged. “You took the bracelet away from me!”
“That’s right, boy. That’s why I really called you Clutch, because you want everything in your greedy clutches.”
“I had to be that way. I never had anything, just your leavings. No mother, no father, just you and that old besom, Ruth. You never cared for me. The game was the most important thing in your life. Those were the cards you dealt me.”
They were both on the floor, breathing hard. Buster laughed bitterly. “That was the lesson, you dope. Poker is life. The hand you’re dealt is determined. It’s how you play the cards that counts. Does the circumstances make the person, or does the person make the circumstances?”
Clutch looked up in astonishment. “I was the best poker player in the world.”
“None of that mattered when you failed at everything else. It was always up to you, Oliver. You made the wrong choices.” Buster sat up and touched Clutch’s shoulder gently. “I tried to teach you that in real life, and now in the afterlife too. Look at what you lost by always trying to win.”
Clutch placed his hands over his eyes to stop the hot tears that prickled his eyelids. The wrong choices. A kaleidoscope of memories cascaded like falling cards—the missed birthdays, the family dinners gone cold while he played, the extramarital affairs, the hurts, the petty fights to get out of his responsibilities. Did he ever tell any of them he loved them?
>
Clutch sighed and stood up, holding out a hand to help his grandfather. He brushed off his pants. Turning to Telly, he said, “I’m sorry, Telly. What I did was wrong.”
Telly watched Clutch, his eyes wide in his face.
“You got integrity,” said Clutch. “I know you’re gonna do the right thing. You never needed me to tell you what to do.”
Telly’s eyes smarted with tears, but strangely he felt no panic. He could do this.
“I fold, partner.” Clutch winked.
Clutch turned and walked toward a swirling tunnel, his arm over the hulking cloud, finally at peace. He vanished. Sten followed with a satisfied smile, closing the portal behind them.
Telly searched the stage. Clutch was gone. He looked at the Ant, who was scanning the area nervously. Telly shrugged. The Ant shrugged back.
“I guess we’re on our own,” Telly said quietly to the Ant. He looked down at the three cards on the baize. Ace, two, and four stared back at him, burned into his retina.
The Ant nodded. “Guess so.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. He looked about twelve years old.
Telly pushed a mountain of chips into the center. “Bet four million.”
The Ant looked at his stacks and then up at Telly. Telly noticed he had startling green eyes that were rimmed in red. He had to lean forward to hear the Ant murmur, “I’m all in.”
“This is it!” Kevin was breathless. “We’re in the first hand, and the Ant’s gone all in? If Telly calls…”
“Call,” Telly said simply, revealing his two sevens.
The Ant smiled, his crooked teeth showing as he turned over pocket kings.
“Good hand, Adam,” Telly smiled. The Ant looked up tentatively, grinning back.
“Here comes the turn,” Kevin’s voice came over the speakers.
The dealer placed a four next to the other cards. The Ant stood, his knuckles pressed into the table. Telly noticed his face was full of pimples. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
Telly took a long look at the audience, wishing he could see Gretchen. He touched his lips, then his heart, knowing she would get the message. He took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. Placing them on again, he said with determination, “Let’s get this over with.”